arms are so exhausted they drop feebly to my sides.
I’d feared an exotic death. Box jellyfish. Stonefish. Funnel-web spider.
My shoulders sag, my head’s drooping, I want to lie down and sleep. Don’t want to die here, so far from home.
Taipan—a snake with the most deadly venom in the world. Paralyzes you.
I am paralyzed. I’ve sunk down on my knees, my body curled over Nana. Coughing helplessly.
Something grabs me from behind.
Crocodile. It’s going to take me under the water, do a death roll.
Weakly I slap at it but it crams something over my face and yells, “Breathe!” in a male voice that cuts straight through the din of the fire.
I gulp in…air. Air that’s not full of smoke. It makes me cough again but I suck in more, greedily. An oxygen mask. Someone did come to rescue us.
I rip the mask off. “Nana!” My hoarse scream tears out of my aching throat.
He forces the mask back in place. Then I’m being lifted, as easily as if I were a baby, and I’m jiggling along in my rescuer’s arms as he runs through the living room and out. Out, out the door, outside into fresh night air that makes me cry with relief.
I jerk the mask off again. “My grandmother!”
As he puts me down on the grass, all my sore eyes can make out is a tall, broad shape in firefighter gear. “We’ve got her. Anyone else in there?”
I shake my head. Realize how good the night air smells. Yes, it’s smoky, but nothing like inside the house. Am I imagining it, or is there a scent of tropical flowers?
“Her leg’s broken,” I tell him. “Be careful with her.”
A blanket’s spread over me, then someone’s handing me a bottle of water. Nothing has ever looked so appealing. The top’s off and I gulp it down, and it’s fresh too, and cool, cutting through the sooty burn at the back of my throat. My skin’s on fire, the blanket’s too hot and I shrug it off, and drink greedily.
“Okay, that’s enough,” my rescuer says. “Put the mask back on. You need oxygen.”
In the background my aching ears still hear the roar, crackle, smash of the fire, and there’s a bunch of male voices barking back and forth, saying things I can’t quite catch. My guy’s voice cuts through it all, as fresh and crisp as the cold water.
My eyes struggle to bring his face into focus. Nice. Very nice. Strong bones, tanned skin, eyes that are maybe blue, maybe gray. Can’t tell in this light, with smoke-blurred vision. Can’t see his hair either. Fair or dark, under his helmet? Either would look good with that face.
And I’d thought the water looked appealing!
His mouth quirks up into a grin and then he’s reaching out, one hand on the back of my head, gently hooking the oxygen mask over my face again. Oh, right. He’d told me to do that.
Okay, I’m officially losing it. I guess that’s what smoke inhalation and a near-death experience can do to a girl.
“Your grandmother’s conscious,” he reassures me. “I can see that from here. She’s talking to the ambos.”
Conscious. I breathe a sigh of relief. But what are ambos?
He reads my puzzled frown. “Right, you’re a tourist. Should’ve known from the accent. Ambos are ambulance paramedics.”
I nod my understanding.
“You’ll both be going to the hospital in Cairns so they can assess your condition.” He glances down my body and something changes in his face. From looking concerned, he’s gone to looking…interested. Man-woman interested. Not that it’s a look I have much personal experience with.
I follow his gaze. Oops, maybe I shouldn’t have shrugged the blanket off. I forgot I was wearing skimpy lingerie—and it’s now plastered to me, leaving nothing to the imagination.
I’d say my body’s pretty average. Slim, toned, nothing special. Guys see me as the gal-pal, best-bud type of woman. Good company for a movie, game, chat or some sex, but nothing to inspire lust.
Soot must be flattering. The firefighter’s expression has gone hot and intense.
And I feel a whole different kind of heat flood through my body, in response to that hungry gaze. Life and death. Male and female. Can’t get any more basic—primitive—than that.
I want him.
Without knowing the color of his eyes or hair, his name, whether he’s married with a half dozen kids, I want him.
His head jerks and he shifts his gaze from my nearly nude body to my face.
And there’s a moment. One of those moments, but stronger than I’ve ever experienced before, where gazes lock and the tension zinging back and forth is almost tangible.
Want you, my eyes tell him.
Fuck, yeah, his say back.
Then he jerks his head again, pulls the blanket over me and lurches to his feet. “You’ll be okay now. I have a fire to fight.”
I pull the mask off and say, “But…”
He’s walking away, doesn’t hear me. So I don’t get a chance to embarrass myself by asking, “Will I ever see you again?”
3
Wearily I shuffle down the hospital corridor in a pair of paper slippers, carrying the bounty given to me by a kind nurse. A face cloth, towel, comb, toothbrush and toothpaste. There are no showers for ER patients, but I can sponge off the soot in the toilet.
I’ve discovered toilet is the word the blunt Aussies use for a restroom. Why do you go there? To pee, mostly. So, call it what it is.
Except, right now my dehydrated body is less interested in peeing than in getting clean. I stand at a sink and stare into the mirror. The face staring back makes me wince.
I’d rather not spend my first morning in Australia in the emergency room, but then, I have nowhere else to go. The only person I know here is Nana, who’s been admitted and is sleeping peacefully after having her leg set. They’ll keep her today and tonight, under observation. The break’s no problem, but she breathed more smoke than I did, and she’s older. More vulnerable. But everyone’s assured me she should be fine, so I’m hugely relieved.
Along with guilty. She was my responsibility. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep without checking to see that she was okay.
If I can find some place to go, they’ll discharge me now. They tested my carbon monoxide level, and, good girl that I am, I passed that test like I’ve passed every other test in my life. Even so, I look like crap and feel seriously grubby.
I start the water running, balance hot and cold, fill the basin. Then I dunk my head and use antibacterial liquid
